The True Love's Kiss
by Laure001
Summary: Lizzy Bennett has been turned into a frog by a warlock. Only a True Love's Kiss can make her human again. Darcy kisses her, it works. So? End of the tale, right? Not with these two…


**This is a variation of a wonderful WONDERFUL story by Bookpirate. I loved her universe so much I asked her if I could do a variation of her tale, and she said yes!**

My story is independent, so you don't have to read Bookpirate's story first, but you should, because it's so great. :) Google BookPirate and "I have loved you for a thousand years (I'll love you for a thousand more). It's chapter 10.

x-x

 _ **Lizzy has been turned into a frog. Only a True Love's Kiss can lift the curse. Darcy has dragged Frog-Lizzy from bar to bar to help her to find her true love, before finally kissing her himself. She turns human again, and… Here we go!**_

x-x

The first thing Darcy did when Lizzy's metamorphosis happened was to close his eyes – because, of course, when you are a frog and you turn human again, you do it stark naked.

So… Yep. Right. Naked Lizzy, on her couch, in her apartment - in his arms. Darcy stood up brutally and took a step back, stayed frozen there for a fraction of second, then fetched the "clothes and toiletries" emergency bag Jane had prepared in case Lizzy met her true love in a bar, and ended whole and nude before an appreciative audience.

"Don't move," Darcy said – maybe he stammered a little. "I'll get your robe." The bag was on the dinner table; he scrambled to get the garment out, his hands trembling slightly – it was a lovely black and ivory silk piece, bought by Jane after the curse for exactly such an occurrence. Darcy handed it to Lizzy, forgetting to avert his eyes – she was standing now, naked, gorgeous – all embarrassment, luminous skin and chestnut hair – around her head obviously – but also… He turned away and stared resolutely at the window.

(See, Fitzwilliam Darcy was cursed, but he didn't know it yet.)

"I will let you, huh, get dressed," he whispered.

"I am decent now," Lizzy announced in a small voice, after a few seconds.

He turned again, and slowly took the sight of her – in flowing silk, with that emotion in her eyes, "God, Darcy, thank you," she whispered, "I mean, I don't know how I can ever repay you. You, you saved my life..."

"I saved you from a few more weeks of amphibian existence," he stated, as coldly as he could. "Quite a different feat. I would have convinced the warlock to reverse the curse eventually."

Lizzy shook her head. "Oh no – I was going crazy in there, believe me. I was..." She hesitated. "I… Fuck, you know what I need?"

"What?"

"Coffee. I need strong, black coffee. When you are a frog, you don't get coffee. Do you want coffee?"

"Ah, hum, no, thank you," Darcy whispered. His head was hurting. Or spinning. Or both. He had kissed Elizabeth Bennett and reversed the curse. With a True Love's Kiss. And it had worked. Which meant...

Darcy was a magician who _specialized_ in curses. He knew what that meant. What that should mean.

Lizzy got the coffee started. Then there was the most awkward pause.

She was looking at him. He was looking at her.

"Are you sure you don't want…" She gestured toward the machine.

"No." He hesitated. His heart beating so fast.

He should… He should tell her… He should ask…

"Oh my God I've got to call Jane!" Lizzy cried, before beginning to frantically search for her phone, "and my parents, and oh, Darcy, I want to thank you again, I..."

Her robe slid just a little, revealing fascinating items in the, hum, general chest area, and Darcy decided to flee.

"I don't want to intrude," he stated, "you have a lot of people to talk to. "

He almost ran to the door, and then to the street, and then to his car, and soon he was back to the solitude and darkness of Pemberley mansion – Pemberley lab, Pemberley lair, whatever you want to call it – anywhere that was far, very far away from a very naked, very beautiful, very grateful, and very emotional Elizabeth Bennett.

x-x

That night, Charlotte showed up at Lizzy's apartment with an I-am-glad-you-are-not-a-frog-anymore bottle of champagne. Jane was already there, preparing sophisticated dip with some magical herbs she had harvested on a solstice night during a full moon, and that she kept for the important occasions, to gave the _aperitivo_ a little fairy taste.

"To being human!" announced Lizzy, opening the bottle. "A human with legs and breasts and feet and a voice... There's nothing like it!"

The cork popped, champagne flew up everywhere and Charlotte made a lazy gravity spell with her left hand to lead the liquid back into the glasses, before adding a nano-stars effect in the air to make it more festive.

"To being human!" she repeated. "And women! The elite of the species!"

They toasted, before Jane gently pointed, "We owe Lizzy's restoration to a man."

"Lizzy, you said you were happy to have a voice again," said Charlotte, ignoring the protest, "but that is not a human specialty. Talking frogs do exist."

"I suppose it would have been too easy," Lizzy answered. "The warlock wanted me to suffer."

"Speaking of which," Charlotte commented, continuing the conversation they had on the phone two hours before, "of course he loves you."

"The warlock?"

"Darcy."

Lizzy shook her head. "I was naked in his arms after a True Love's Kiss. And you know what he did? Nothing."

Jane took a new sip of champagne. "He is shy."

"Shy? God knows I'm head over heels in love with the guy, but believe me, he generally has no difficulty making his opinions known."

"He might not be timid about _opinions_ ," Jane countered, "but opening his heart is another matter."

Lizzy leaned back on the couch. "Oh, Jane… I want to believe you – I want to – but… I don't know. I mean, he laid his feelings down very clearly, and very insultingly, at Huntsford."

"And you violently rejected him. No wonder he's being prudent now."

"For Crowley's sake," Charlotte interjected. "Why are we still talking? He loves you, and you love him. There is NO room for interpretation. Mutual love is how a True Love's Kiss works! It is the only way to lift a True Love's Kiss Curse! In fact, let me throw the Grimoire at you," she said, standing up and walking to the shelves, while Lizzy protested,

"What if… he _did_ love me, before, and the spell picked up on that? His affection from one year ago?"

"This is not how a TLK works," Charlotte said, slightly exasperated. She turned the pages. "There. 'For the True Love's Kiss to work, the affection has to be present, ardent, mutual, and exclusive.' See? Present. Ardent. Mutual. It's like a Barbara Cartland story in there."

Jane refilled their champagne glasses. "Charlotte is right. Lizzy, you have no nothing to fear. He does love you – I mean, it's science."

"It's not science," Lizzy protested. "It's magic."

"Magic _is_ a science," grumbled Charlotte, still perusing the Grimoire. "Stop whining. The kiss worked, ergo, he loves you. The End."

"But then why has he not..." Lizzy phone beeped. Her heart leaped in her chest – she knew who it was before even looking at the screen – intuition is the first thing you learn to develop in Magical Perception 101. "Darcy," she whispered to the others. "He says, 'We have to talk. Are you free for dinner this evening?'"

"There you are!" Charlotte exclaimed. "Problem solved. God, kids these days. Making sex so fucking complicated."

"Love," Jane corrected. "This is about love, not sex."

"That too," Charlotte answered, watching as Lizzy stared at her phone, all... Lizzy-like, meaning: unsure, ready to make bad decisions and to make very simple things very difficult. Charlotte leaned in her direction. "Eliza Bennett, what is happening in that stubborn brain of yours? Why are you not answering the man, most enthusiastically?"

"Because," Lizzy said, embarrassed, "maybe it's not a date. Maybe he wants to talk about the warlock, about how to prevent the frog thing from happening again."

"Just kill me now," was Charlotte only answer.

"Have you tried the TFWTFIHT app? said Jane, and both Charlotte and Lizzy looked at her incredulously.

 _The Fuck, What The Fuck Is He Thinking?_ was an illegal app. Magical, and very efficient – which was the reason why it was illegal. You applied it to a text or a What'sApp (didn't work on Apple or Google Mail, their anti-sorcery systems were too powerful) and the app told you the feelings of the person texting you. Price, 25 dollars, downloaded a lot by teenagers (and Jane, apparently.) Also very useful in a business context.

"Jane," Lizzy laughed. "You tried it? You broke the law! I am so impressed."

"I am... I was... It was when Bingley was not speaking to me anymore," Jane explained, averting her eyes. "I was, hum, a little desperate to know what he was thinking. And when he came back, when he texted, I... You know."

"I am so very proud of you," Charlotte commented. "So? Did it work? What did the App said?"

Jane turned a becoming shade of red. "It said… It was... It was all good," she whispered. "Very good. But Elizabeth, if you don't want to use it because it's immoral, I would totally under..."

"I want to use it and I want to use it NOW," was her sister's answer. "Show me."

Two minutes later the app was downloaded; Lizzy displayed Darcy's message and began the process. The three girls watched Lizzy's phone while minuscule flying blue elves with pornographic appendages (the creators had a lot of fun with the graphic design) danced around the phone for a while. But then there was a sad buzzing sound, and the elves disappeared in a whoosh.

"'Process failed,'" Lizzy read. "Darcy's phone is protected."

"Of course it would be," Charlotte groaned. "The guy is a 27th-level magician after all."

"So, what do I do?" Lizzy muttered.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "You go to dinner and you shag him. Please appreciate the fake English accent."

"Or...," Jane intervened again. "Have you ever thought about slipping him a truth potion?"

The two other women widened their eyes and Jane colored again.

"What?" she added, a little embarrassed. "I told you – I was desperate. I just had to know."

x-x

Darcy, of course was cursed.

He had realized it with horror, while looking into the mirror, just after sending Lizzy the text. Wasn't it paradoxical? Ironical? For a magician specialized in curses to be cursed himself?

Or maybe it was, on the opposite, perfectly logical. Like those people who became psychologists because they had something to understand about themselves. Or who became detectives because they had grown up with a family secret.

So yeah, Darcy's curse – now that he has seen it he could not unsee it – at first he thought it was Wickham's doing, of course. He would blame Wickham for everything, global warming and the war in Syria included. But no. The problem was much more serious.

It was a curse of his own making.

First-year stuff, really. Darcy told his students all the time, how it was so easy to spot a curse into another being's soul, and how difficult it was to see it in yourself. He supposed his curse must have begun early… he was a shy, discreet child. He was not charming, as other kids could be. He did not have a lot of friends – loneliness and social isolation must have created a nice, cosy bed for the curse to be born. Then his parents died. Wickham, his best friend, betrayed him in a thousand non-important ways, before the real betrayal, what he did to Georgiana – Darcy almost lost her – his teen sister, the only one he really loved at the time – and there you were – somewhere in between all of this, the curse must have settled comfortably in his soul, around his heart, like a cold, poisonous snake – stifling his emotions, crushing his heart with despair and solitude, barring the creation of new emotional connections. Darcy had first tried to shake it, he realized now, when he declared his love for Lizzy in Huntsford. Yes, that had been his way to fight the curse, to find a way out – but he went at it so badly – Lizzy rejected him so violently – that the snake only grew.

"Are you sure you are not on the Asperger Spectrum?" Richard, his cousin, had asked, when Darcy was sitting at his kitchen table, his head in his hands, just after Huntsford.

Darcy had raised his head to mumble, "The Asperger Spectrum does not exist anymore."

Thank God for Richard and Bingley, by the way. Friendship was one way to fight the curse, and maybe those two, and Georgiana, were the reason Darcy had not already drowned.

"Or, you know, something similar," his cousin added with a light wave of the hand. "Or… some social disorder of some kind."

"Well, primo, _thank you,_ Richard," Darcy had said with all the sarcasm he could muster. "And secundo – I do not think so. I believe I have... trust issues."

"Trust issues are why you start a declaration to the woman you love by saying she is not good enough for you?"

"Oh God," Darcy had muttered, putting his hands back on his eyes. "Oh, God."

He was not on the spectrum – he thought, in front of that mirror, thirty-five minutes before his date with Lizzy. Or maybe he was – or "some social disorder of some kind," but that was only an aspect of it, and hardly the worst.

No. The curse was strangling his voice, scrambling his brain, preventing him from – telling the woman he adored how much he loved her, even after a successful True Love's Kiss, so here he was, just before an evening with her, and all he could think about, gazing at his pale reflection, was the snake and all the possibilities of rejection and loss.

x-x

So, it _was_ a date, Lizzy thought. Darcy had chosen an Italian restaurant – expensive and cosy. The food was delicious. He had ordered some wine, then left to say a word to the owner, before bringing back two glasses of champagne with him.

Yep, a date.

Or not. Because all he talked about were spells and protective rituals. How to protect Lizzy from the warlock. How to protect herself from curses, in general, and amphibian curses, in particular. Darcy even made a speech about magical barriers and shields in _five points_. That he announced, one after the other. "Point one." "Point two."

It was so damn awkward, even the wine didn't help. Lizzy knew they could have great, relaxed conversations – after Bingley came back, after Darcy saved Lydia, he and Lizzy had hung out all the time, as friends – and it was great – if you except that Lizzy was pining for him like crazy – but it had been really fun, and now, it was horrible.

And made even worse by the arrival of Caroline Bingley.

Caroline entered the restaurant with some friends, spotted Darcy and Elizabeth right away and made a beeline for their table, with a disgusted expression.

"Are you on a date?" she asked directly, no "Hello," nothing.

"Yes," Darcy answered. "We are."

Lizzy's heart fluttered a little, before Darcy turned toward the waiter, who had come to refill their glasses, and said: "The wine is too acidic. And the pasta were sub-par. "

Uh oh. Lizzy instantly understood ¬ and panic began to rise. But Caroline didn't care about the wine. "This is ridiculous, Darcy" she said, with a dismissive gesture toward Lizzy. "You and her," she spat, "it would be a misalliance."

Darcy reacted before Lizzy could stop him.

"No, it would not be," he stated, calmly. "There are no social misalliances these days; there are only emotional and intellectual ones. Lizzy and I are equal on those terms. Starting a relationship with you, however, Caroline, would be a true mismatch."

Oh God. Lizzy wanted to die on the spot. She tried to intervene, but Darcy was already clarifying, "You are mean-spirited and not that bright." Caroline stayed petrified, mouth opened, like a trout. "I wonder how you and Charles can come from the same parents. He is generous, open and creative, a true, compassionate human being – all that you are not. In fact, Caroline, your character is…"

"Enough!" Lizzy cried, jumping on her feet. Even Caroline didn't deserve such a dressing down. "Caroline, just – a – a word… Please…" She grabbed the stunned young woman by the elbow and dragged her to the other side of the room, the farthest possible from Darcy. "Don't worry – he – he is drunk," Lizzy said quickly, "and – and we were playing truth or dare – and I dared him to say the opposite of what he was thinking for the next 30 minutes…"

"Oh," said Caroline, putting her hand on her heart, looking so relieved. "Oh. God. Thank God."

There was a silence. Then Bingley's sister raised her eyes to Lizzy and added, "You are all wrong for him, you know."

Lizzy took a pause to think. It was not in her character to be cruel, and she had been heartbroken over Darcy too long to not recognize the same feeling in a fellow human being. But, sometimes truth was the kinder option.

"I think I _am_ right for him, Caroline," she said softly. "And he is certainly right for me."

Caroline looked so hurt – then she left in a huff, and Lizzy ran back at the table, ready to come clean – but Darcy was on a roll, and he didn't wait for her to be seated before adding,

"Of course, when I say we are emotional and intellectual equals, Lizzy, I do not mean it literally. I think it is clear than I am cleverer than you are – maybe by a margin of ten, fifteen percent? It really depends of what definition of intelligence we are using, obviously, and you are definitely my superior in emotional intelligence. But…"

"Oh my God oh my God just stop talking," Lizzy cried, horrified. "Darcy, stop, please. I slipped you a truth potion. I put it in your wine, at the beginning of the meal. I am so sorry. So sorry. Please forgive me. Please."

Darcy staid stunned for a moment.

"I am so sorry," Lizzy repeated, rubbing her temples, "I never should have... I don't know why I... Well I know why I did it, but..."

"Why?"

Lizzy staid petrified for a moment. "Because..." she stammered. "Because, I wanted to know..."

She stopped again.

"I really want you naked in my bed," Darcy said.

"YES!" Lizzy cried. "Yes," she repeated in a lower voice, after glancing around worriedly. "Perfect. That is... the perfect solution to this mess. This is great. Let's go."

Darcy gulped the last of his champagne.

"Excellent."

x-x

He took Lizzy's hand, then he had to let it go to pay the bill, then he took her hand again to lead her to the car, opening the door like a gentleman. He took his place at the wheel – and didn't move.

"I am trying not to talk," he explained, after a few moments, in the semi obscurity. "It may be safer."

"It might be," Lizzy said, smiling.

"It was not… What I said about intelligence, it did not work in my favor, I suppose," he added in a low voice.

"Darcy, it is my fault. The potion. Again, I am so sorry."

"If it helps, being 15% less intelligent than me still puts you well above average. In the top five percent, I would say."

She could not help being amused. "I'm not sure it really helps, you know? But thank you for…"

"You are more clever than Georgiana, much more than Bingley, and of course you are spades above your sister Jane," he explained, while Lizzy was hesitating between laughter and horror.

"Oh my God, please, please stop."

"Your friend Charlotte Lucas, though, is an outlier. I would be curious to know..." Darcy stopped, and looked at Lizzy. "I should not have said all this."

"No."

"But you must be aware of those facts, on some level," he added. Lizzy shook her head.

"I don't classify people I love."

Darcy was silent for a long moment.

"I can't help to fear," he said after a while, "that I just lost your good opinion, like I did in... in Huntsford. And that... that would be deplorable."

Lizzy turned to answer, but he continued, "I want to add that I am, I think... I mean, I hope... I think that despite those things I say, I... I strive to be a good person."

"You are one of the best persons I know," Lizzy whispered.

There was only silence in the car. Then he looked at her, wordlessly – an eternity passed – she was the one who kissed him first – it lasted a long time, she wondered if it was a True Love's Kiss – or if only the first one counted – but who cared – her heart was racing, she was shivering, when she broke the kiss, he framed her face with his trembling hands before starting again – and it was perfect – just perfect – her heart was beating, and when she embraced him, she felt his – they stayed at least half an hour, in the car, engaged in this extremely pleasant activity, before he breathed, "We'd better – we'd better get home – I mean my home – I believe."

"Good idea," she answered, before a last kiss. She could not stop smiling during the ride – then there were in Pemberley, in his bed – and everything was just perfect also.

"I am really going to try to stay silent, this time, at least till the effect of the potion wanes," he warned her, while unclasping her bra, but for each word he didn't say, he kissed her a hundred times – and every gesture, every touch, his skin, his eyes – they were – yes – beautiful, and… magic.

"I cannot believe I said those things to Caroline," Darcy said, the next morning, kissing Lizzy's naked body on the shoulders, on the neck, on the breasts. "Charles will be furious at me."

"She will never tell," Lizzy answered lazily. "Not a living soul." She passed her hand into Darcy's hair. "How do you feel? I mean, the potion?"

"I believe I am now quite ready to lie," he stated, and Lizzy raised up on her elbows with a provocative smile.

"Try."

"I never want to see you again."

"Cute."

"I really have a healthy appreciation for Caroline."

"Not necessarily a lie. The amount of your appreciation for her seems perfectly healthy to me."

Darcy's smile grew a little tentative. "I was lying when I talked about intelligence, yesterday."

"Oh, that _is_ a clever one," Lizzy said, laughing, before drawing him nearer, for a long, intimate kiss. "Do you accept my humble apologies?" she added then, more seriously, expecting that he would, again, ask her _why_ she had slipped him the potion.

He didn't. "You forgive me my misguided comments, I forgive you the rest."

Lizzy smiled. "Deal. But there is something I want you to know."

"I am all ears." There was such a light in his eyes when he looked at her, that it was very difficult not to kiss him again.

"I am six years younger than you. And still in grad school. So sure, maybe there is still a little discrepancy in our… respective… talents. But I will get older, and wiser. I will learn super powerful spells and I will CRUSH you," she explained, her smile growing wider.

He nodded with a thoughtful air before slowly leaning down, kissing her temple, and whispering into her ear, "That, my dear, will NEVER happen."

"Oh, we'll see. I will train and train for years in secret basements with fancy costumes till I am ready to DESTROY you," Lizzy answered, stretching, but he didn't respond to her banter, he was just watching her – with that look – and she felt so happy – so deliriously, wonderfully happy.

Was there something like a True Love's Fuck? Because if there was, she had certainly just experienced one. She beamed at him – his eyes were so tender – so she just had to kiss him, and from there things sort of snowballed, and it was almost an hour before they were able to talk again – they had cold pancakes and cold coffee – the kitchen pet genie had prepared a great breakfast, of course, but they had waited too long.

"I suppose I have to leave," Lizzy said reluctantly, after a while.

Something passed on Darcy's face that she could not analyze. There was a silence, and they began to get dressed; Lizzy realizing that they there was still much being unsaid. They were yet to have _that_ conversation – about the future, about the nature of their relationship, about the True Love's Kiss. Suddenly she felt awkward – somewhat vulnerable – and was completely taken by surprise when Darcy turned to her and said, in a very neutral tone,

"Or, you could just move in here for a while."

Lizzy's eyes widened.

"Pemberley is a magical organism in its own right," Darcy explained quickly, "It protects its inhabitants – in the house and on the grounds, of course, but also in a radius of three hundred miles around its main hearth. 'Portable protective shields,' Georgiana calls them. Eighth level protection at best, but I do believe they would be enough to counter any – amphibian sorcery attack, so to say."

"Oh," said Lizzy – so grateful, so touched – but also a little taken aback by Darcy's matter-of-fact, distant tone – she hesitated – and maybe he misinterpreted her reaction, because he added in a hurried voice,

"A temporary solution, of course. I am not asking you to move in with me. This is just a rational solution to a conjectural problem."

"Oh," she repeated, disappointment flashing on her face – he felt like a fool – the snake stirred – after this, she would surely reject him, so he struck first, adding coldly,  
"It's not that I necessarily want you here."

There was a silence – she seemed stunned. Darcy had to walk to the window to hide his disturbance – that was not what he had meant to say – he just wanted to leave her a way out – "I mean," he managed to utter, looking out at the Pemberley grounds, "it would be more rational… You would be safer in this house."

Lizzy didn't answer right away. When he found the courage to turn to look at her – bracing himself – it would be Huntsford all over again – he was surprised to see her sitting calmly on the edge of the bed, watching him, a thoughtful look in her eyes.

She stood up. "Thank you," she finally said, with a formal, but not unpleasant voice. "This is a very generous offer. I accept with pleasure… Fitzwilliam."

He stayed silent, under shock – that she had said yes – the atmosphere was so tense.

"I am going home to get my things," she said. "I will be back in a few hours."

Then she brushed his lips with hers, and was gone.

x-x

Elizabeth Bennett was far from a fool. She was perfectly capable of reading socially awkward young men – at least when she was not blinded by unrequited love and her own insecurities. So she was not freaking out, on her way to her tiny, cheap apartment. She was more – intrigued, really.

Because come on – now, she _knew_. Their kisses, in the car. That night they shared. The look in his eyes in the morning. And he _had_ asked her to move in with him – even temporarily – no, he would not fool her with his sudden embarrassed behavior. So, ok, there was still a part of him that was – reserved, ill at ease, reluctant to share – fine. She would kiss him out of his strange moods – starting by tonight – she felt pretty confident now that she would soon learn how to navigate the thousand nuances of Fitzwilliam Darcy – and at this idea, a strange euphoria seized her.

She would be with him. They would share the same bed, the same table, she would – touch him – her heart was running wild – she almost ran into her apartment, and launched a Mary Poppins spell to pack faster – yes, it was very expensive, and almost wiped out her mana reserve, but she could not wait. While all her clothes were flying and dancing their ways into her suitcases, she sent ecstatic texts to Charlotte and Jane to tell them the news – Jane answered with a long, joyful emotional message, and Charlotte just wrote "Duh." Then Lizzy decided to begin to move stuff to her car; she opened the door and found Darcy across the narrow hall, his back on the wall, waiting for her.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi," she answered, taken aback.

A pause. The music was sipping through.

"You are using a Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?" he stated, with a nod toward the apartment.

"Yes," Lizzy answered, weirdly embarrassed. "I know they're costly, but I just wanted to..." Her voice trailed away.

"Those Disney spells are scandalously overpriced," he stated. "I wholeheartedly support the boycott."

"Charlotte uses Open Source."

"I am not surprised."

Lizzy nodded, and then there was – again – the most awkward pause.

She was looking at him. He was looking at her.

"I was wondering – If Pemberley protects its dwellers," Lizzy started – anything to break this awful silence, "how could Wickham enchant Georgiana?"

The way Darcy's face changed at the mere mention of Wickham had always been fascinating. Even now, hate, pain and repulsion flickered on his features before he regained control and was his impassive self again.

"Georgie was staying at Ramsgate, at the seaside," he finally explained. "Still in the Pemberley 300 miles radius – I made her swear an oath that she wouldn't leave the magic circle before she turned 21. I know how it sounds, but after what happened to our parents…"

Lizzy nodded. Black magic was involved in the Darcys' deaths – the culprit had been caught and punished, but of course the event had let deep scars in both their children's psychés.

"Ramsgate was at the limit of the perimeter," Darcy continued. "And Wickham just happened to pass by. He invited Georgiana for dinner and then for a stroll at the beach. He was with an accomplice – a woman named Young – she was pregnant. Wickham's baby, maybe – who knows. She pretended to drown – or, maybe she was enchanted too, and Wickham _willed_ her to drown – anyway… of course Georgie rushed to her help… and by doing it…" Darcy's voice trailed away, but Lizzy understood.

"She left the perimeter," she whispered. "She stepped in the unprotected area."

"Yes. And Wickham just… struck."

Lizzy could hardly breathe.

"That is… That man is a monster."

"He is," Darcy said, his voice bland. "I dislike how everybody brandish the word 'evil' these days – every manipulative narcissist with some juice is an 'evil sorcerer'... But in this case…"

He shook his head.

"My God," Lizzy repeated. "I am so sorry."

There was a new silence.

An interminable one.

Lizzy's heart was beating in a strange way. "Did you… You didn't come here to… tell me this."

"No." Darcy took a step in her direction, then stopped. "I came here to fight my own brand of evil." He took a deep breath. "I was afraid there had been a misunderstanding."

Lizzy's heart sank. "You do not want me to move in."

"No. I mean, yes. Yes I do. On the opposite," he said too quickly. She looked at him with some confusion, so he added,"I… was afraid I had been somewhat distant during our last conversation, and that you would misinterpret my... I was not sure you would be coming back."

She could hardly talk. "Of course I was coming back."

"Yes. Well, good," he said, his voice rough. "Then I want to assure you – in person – how happy I am that you are going to be... under the protection of Pemberley."

Lizzy nodded silently.

"How very happy I am."

Lizzy nodded again – her heart was now reaching uncomfortable speed.

"Actually," he began, and hesitated again. "The fact that we... That your curse was broken by our kiss, would seem to indicate that..."

He paused again. Lizzy could not speak. Darcy had a mirthless laugh.

"I checked in the Grygax. After you turned human. They say, for a True Love's Kiss to work, the feeling needs to be intense, lasting and, hum… reciprocated."

"'Ardent, mutual and exclusive,'" Lizzy whispered. "I only have the Little Alchemist at my house. That's… That's what it says."

"Indeed," Darcy answered, looking away.

Lizzy's head hurt. Why – was he not – why were they not in each other's arms? Why was he so distant – so cold – so apparently cold – when…

"Lizzy, I am cursed," Darcy breathed.

She started and instantly walked to him.

"What? How? What happened?" she stammered, putting her hand on his heart to peer into his soul, as a classic magical reading gesture – of course it did not work, Darcy had too many protections in place – but he put his hand on hers, and kept it there.

"It would be long to explain, although I will, of course, if... If you ever wish to hear it. But… one of the consequences of this curse, is that I am not – it is difficult for me to reach out to others."

"Is it Wickham?"

Darcy laughed mirthlessly again. "No. I am the only one responsible, I fear." He had not let go of Lizzy's hand – she stepped closer and put her other hand on his chest.

"How do we fight it?"

"Nothing original," he breathed. "You know. Love. Trust. The usual. So..."

She raised her eyes to him and he said in a broken voice, "It won't come as a surprise, I guess, if I tell you how much… If I tell you I never stopped loving you, not for a moment."

She lowered her head on his chest. "I love you too," she whispered.

He held her closer – his hands not totally steady – then lowered all his barriers, so she could step into his circle of protections – laying his soul bare, totally defenseless –so she could do anything to him – they could read each other's hearts – and there was connection, and there was light, and the snake hissed and withered and died (or maybe he had never existed anyway)…

And thus, the curse was lifted.


End file.
